And thirdly,” he said, “thirdly a party of Young Conservatives from Sirius B, are they here?”
A party of smartly dressed young dogs stopped throwing rolls at each other and started throwing rolls at the stage. They yapped and barked unintelligibly.
“Yes,” said Max, “well this is all your fault, you realize that?
The Restaurant at the End of the Universe
Posted on Tuesday March 27th
About me
The greatest charade of pseudo-intellectual caddery since...well, ever...probably.
